If Only
by Jantra
Summary: If only time could reverse itself, maybe he wouldn't be dead... If only one thick headed yami could have learned the truth of his actions. If only... if only... Ryou hadn't died.


**If Only  
by: Jantra Hokushin  
  
  
[ Published: ****] September 16th. 2003****  
[ Pairings: ] Ryou x Bakura ****  
   
[Author Notes:] _This will be a very slow going fanfic, updated only when I get the urge to write it. Started this one night when I had a very serious itch to write something. Sorry if its redundant and stupid and way too depressing but…_****  
  
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**Warning!: You may possibly need tissues to read this story. Might want to have some around. PLEASE DON'T HURT ME for what happens in this fic… I love all my characters but I just needed to write something…. *hides under a rock***

            Btw… Did you know that VCR stands for 'video cassette recorder?' … I didn't… I think its because I don't own such outdated technology. Ummm the song used in this fic is Three Doors Down's "When I'm Gone"… It's a beautiful song, get it.

**( Things** That Cannot Change )****

** Yami's POV:**

            I walked up to the front of the room, the scent of half decayed flowers thick on the air, the imposing silence all around me. Somewhere, inside, I knew I wanted to scream. For time to reverse itself and set everything right again. Somewhere, inside, I knew that this was partly my fault. If only I had recognized the signs of it all earlier. If only… two words that I know that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

            I closed my eyes. My fingertips caressed satin smooth wood, touched the cold metal of gold. And then, the purity of white silk. More tears threatened to emerge. I knew that if I didn't stop myself quickly, they'd make themselves known. I had to be strong. For Yuugi, for everyone else here. Most of all, for the person that had done this. 

            That white hair, that white hair that in the past I touched, ruffled, caressed. As soft as the silk it rested upon. That was my undoing. A few hot tears burned trails of salt down my cheeks. How was I supposed to stand this? Those pale cheeks, still one bruise left behind I knew but now was expertly covered in coroner's makeup. That man had done an excellent job, some part of me thought. Ryou had always looked this peaceful in life…

            Except for the times his eyes showed nothing but fear.

            I heard, distantly, the sounds of music. I hadn't even noticed before that some song or another was being played. It was an American song, something I had heard once or twice on the radio. I remember my other half saying that it was one of the songs he and Ryou had liked. My ears picked up on the words near the end of a chorus.

_…I'm scared_

_You won't always be there_

_So love me when I'm gone_

_Love me when I'm gone..._

          In the back of my mind, choked with tears, I could hear my aibou whispering the words of the song as it played. My heart wanted in that moment to do nothing more then protect my little Yuugi from the pain he was feeling, but I knew the boy had to feel it, to suffer through it, or he would never get past it. 

_…Your education x-ray _

_Can not see under my skin _

_I won't tell you a damn thing_

_That I could not tell my friends…_

          If only Ryou had told someone. Told someone of the pain he was going through. If only he had spared his pride, his fear, to open up to someone just for one moment. Maybe he would still be with us. Maybe… If only… words that couldn't bring him back.

_…Roaming through this darkness _

_I'm alive but I'm alone _

_Part of me is fighting this _

_But part of me is gone…_

            That was when I heard a choked sob from behind me. I turned my head to look up from Ryou's insipid face to see who I could comfort. I actually think I might have gasped in that second, surprise running through my entire form. It was Bakura, sitting in the back row, his eyes buried in his palms. Even from here, I could see his form shaking, trembling. Was this the man, that through the wake, through the whole damned thing, had never shed a tear, or even cracked the stone placid look on his face? Him, crying, in front of people? I almost laughed. No… it couldn't be. He had to laughing, or some other disturbingly wrong and improper emotion. That white haired demon couldn't cry. Could he?

            **Bakura's POV:          **

            Part of me **was **gone. Forever, and it was my fault. It was like how the old saying goes: you never really miss something until its gone. I could feel my tears against the palms of my hands. Why did they feel as if they were burning away my flesh? Could they really be that hot… or just my imagination? 

            I felt a hand touch my shoulder, and unthinkingly, I looked up with a glare on my face into the pupiless purple eyes of the only person who really knew the truth. The only person who could understand the last few weeks. Instantly, my mind told me that whatever lethal promise my eyes usually held was completely ruined by the red rawness around them and the open tears on my cheeks. I raised a hand and wiped away the offending droplets with the back of my knuckles. 

            "Mariku." I said simply, and the man took a seat beside me. He had given up, somewhat, on the stupid purple… hood… cape…thing. Now the man just wore tight leather pants no matter how cold or hot it was outside and a lilac shirt that matched his own eyes. And people called ME vain. Mariku sat down beside me, his own two fingers running under my eye, catching a few salty drops. 

            "Bakura…" He started, that deep voice, that understanding voice. Yami… Jou… Seto… Only the Pharaoh knew the truth. And yet, from everyone else, I received looks of pity. I didn't deserve them. Never, ever, in a million years could I deserve those looks. I deserved to be chased down and stuck through the heart like some common vampire, or burned at the stake, or left to rot in some dark, dank cell. But no. Well, actually, maybe the gods thought that forcing me through this was the worst punishment of all. 

            I felt his arms wrap around me. I couldn't help it; I buried myself into that only bit of comfort someone had given me. It only lasted a moment because I felt eyes burning into me. My own chocolate orbs turned up and met angry crimson ones. The Pharaoh. There. Near MY hikari. I felt my lip draw into a snarl. 

            "Bakura…" Mariku stated simply, grasping my chin and forcing me to look into his eyes. "Fighting now isn't going to help anything." For a man who everyone had deemed to be completely insane, he could be so logical at times. "Let's go home." He whispered.

            "No." I said back to him as I noticed Yami sit back down. "I need to see him… one last time."

            I stood up, and numbly made my way to the front of the room. To that casket, sitting so innocently perched off of the floor. As I made my way up there, I slowly gazed upon the cold face that once held such life, such innocence.

            Innocence that I had taken away.

            Why did the gods have to deny me of looking into those eyes one last time? Those brown eyes that seemed to be able to look into my very soul. Ones that had, in the past, held fear and joy and love and sadness that no normal human could have ever felt.

            I knew he wasn't human.

            I knew, from that very first look into his eyes, that he was an angel.

            And angels are meant to be broken by demons.

            His flesh, so cold… Just as cold as the last time I ever got to hold him. There, in my arms, like some limp falling dream… cold. Dead… and gone. There, laying in that coffin, his final moments on earth. The Ring sat on his chest… Before this Anubis-damned funeral had begun, I had been told to remove the Ring from his neck. It couldn't be cremated with him. 

            Of course not, because that would also kill me.

            And of course, the gods thought that was too easy.

Looking down on him, I wanted to throw myself upon him, shake him, command him to wake up and stop fooling around. But unlike the last hundred times I had forced him into the painful waking world… this time, he would never wake up. So, instead of having my Ryou, my hikari, my other half, smile up into my eyes and laugh again… I had to settle with a single last kiss on his cold lips. 

            And then, without looking back, I turned and left with Mariku at my side.

            **3rd. Person POV: **

            Bakura was silent on the ride home, the only sound being the whipping wind, the purr of the cycle's engine, and the occasional passing of a car. Mariku said nothing, knowing that anything he said would probably be met with the same cool silence. He pulled up to the two story house that his light owned, and happened to also be Bakura's current residence. They entered into the dark home… it was near sunset. Mariku, silently, greeted his light who scampered out from the darkness of the stairway and hugged his dark tightly. Bakura turned away from the sight. 

            "Bakura." Again, Mariku's deep, stern voice overrode his own drowning thoughts. "You should probably try and get some sleep." He knew the other dark had not slept in several days. 

            The Ring's spirit just nodded, not even in the mood to argue. Sleep… just another thing that passed the time and maybe, just for a few hours, would let him be with Ryou again. He padded up to his room, and slid inside the door, closing it by pressing his back to it. For a second, the door was the only thing supporting him as his knees shook. When it passed, he wandered over to the clean sheets of the guestroom bed Malik and Mariku had loaned him. He collapsed into its embrace, felt the creaks of inner springs and the soft scent of dryer sheets from the bedding's last turn through the laundry. His eyes closed, his mind tried to the do the same. But fate would not be so kind as to let him drift into slumber's tender embrace.

            "…Ryou…" He whispered, all of his pain and anguish somehow coming through that unheard word. Bakura turned over and pressed his eyes into the pillow before tears could form into dripping salty pools. His hand gingerly dropped to the floor, felt under the low rise of the bed and bumped into something. To distract his own thoughts, he pulled out the unknown object and looked at what it was. 

            A box, full of video tapes, all labeled in illegible handwriting. 

            Had to be Malik's.

            Because it was some stupid mixture of Hiragana and Sanskrit. 

            Fumbling slightly with the black plastic, he shoved it into the VCR. His thumb rolled over the button to turn on the pitifully small TV and sat back, wondering somewhere in his mind if he was about to watch some sort of porn. He expected no less from the blondes. But what appeared, took him totally off guard.

            Ryou, laughing. Obviously a home movie from the horrible jerking of the camera and Malik's comments as he recorded. Bakura himself, standing against a tree in the shade, his eyes narrowed as he watched his own light. Ryou… looking happy, smiling… 

            It took Bakura a few minutes of watching to notice some of the truth.

            He watched Ryou's movements, the boy wincing sometimes as a pain ran through him. Here and there, especially around that pale neck, a flash of a bruise. Caused by him. His teeth, his fingers. Marking his property. 

            By the middle of the tape, Ryou and Malik were arguing over some inane subject as Mariku sat cursing out the 'piece of junk in his hands' and tried to play with the zoom button too much. 

            By the middle of the tape, Bakura could feel tears running down his cheeks.

            He brought his knees to his chest and hugged them, burying himself into jean covered knees, muffling his sobs. A glance again to the screen… his Ryou… a date. One year ago… it had taken less then a year to break that beautiful spirit. 

            Bakura lifted his head as the door opened, light spilling in from the hallway as Malik poked his head in the door. "'Kura…?" He asked, using the spirit's usual nickname. The white haired spirit didn't move an inch, didn't answer. "...'Kura…" Malik murmured, padding over to wrap his arms around the ailing dark.

            The spirit just shook his head, silent as ever. Malik gently nuzzled into those crossed arms, purring as he rubbed his cheek against Bakura. The yami knew the blonde light was trying to consol in the only way he really knew how, to make it go away by replacing it with pleasure. But… but… he couldn't. Not without Ryou like they had in the past… the four of them… "Malik, stop." He whispered hoarsely. Malik whimpered low and kept trying, biting gently on the pale spirit's neck. Bakura growled low and pushed Malik away. "Please." He snapped. The light whined and looked down for a moment before peering to the TV. He watched himself and Ryou… 

            Bakura hissed low and let out a howl, almost like a jackal's own deep cry. Malik looked up and blinked at the other's expression of pain and anger. Mariku bolted into the room looked at the pair. The other dark was sobbing hysterically, tears streaming down his face. 

            "Ryou! No… my Ryou…" He whispered with a thickness previously unknown to Bakura's voice. The blonde dark frowned and sighed, walking quickly to Bakura and slapping him hard across the face. The white haired spirit stopped everything, froze, and stared blindly up to Mariku. "…Wha…?"

            "You were acting hysterically." The far calmer Mariku stated, crossing his arms over his chest. His light whined and curled up against the blonde. Bakura just closed his eyes and curled up for a moment before he silently stood and shoved past the pair of golden haired Egyptians. 

            "I'll be back later." 

            Footsteps slowly echoed against frosted brick and dark glass windowpanes. A solitary figure made its way through the snow choked streets of a city in the depths of winter. White against white, almost unseen except for the black leather trench coat that hugged the thin form. Slow, sluggish movements as the shape moved into the entrance of the city's park. It plowed through growing banks of white glittering flakes and finally, after about ten minutes of freezing work… stepped into a silent beautiful clearing. Across the expanse of unbroken snow sat what was a newly risen stone monument like a miracle. 

            Bakura looked upon the face of his angel, his love, his hikari… his Ryou.

            He had heard from Mariku that Kaiba had offered the money up to pay for the stone statue that would forever mark this bit of earth as Ryou's last place of rest. Bakura knew his love's body had been turned to nothing but ash, spread over this place… The white ashes blending in seamlessly with the snow. The spirit could barely feel the cold, whether it was his odd corporeal form or the numbness from inside spreading out he could not know. 

            Slowly Bakura walked across the clearing and fell to his knees before the statue. Above him, wings aspread, was his Change of Heart… his Kokoro no Naka… his Ryou. It was the well known duel monster, but instead of the dark haired woman it was indeed the beautiful angel Ryou. His peaceful expression was carved into smooth soft stone. One demon's wing with its rippled leathery stone membrane… one angel's wing with granite feather looking soft as satin. Bakura's hand lifted and touched the edge of stone robe, found only cold when he wanted warmth. 

            "All my fault… all of this… and now… and now…" He knelt there in the fallen snow and fallen ashes of his love, and let the freezing cold take over his body as he remembered.

            But even that was disturbed. A voice drew him from his memories. "Bakura…"

            "Leave me alone…" He whispered.

            "Bakura…" The voice again, with a hint of humor.

            The spirit looked up, ready to tell the speaker to fuck off…

            But there, hovering above the snow and actually perched on the stone base of the statue… was Ryou. Not quite Ryou… Bakura could see through the boy who bore a pair of angel's wings, who glowed with an inner light. He looked as beautiful as he always had. The mane of soft white spikes seemed to move on its own without a wind to kick it up. 

            Bakura felt a whimper escape him. What cruel joke was this? "Ryou…" He breathed out, reaching out to touch the boy… but his fingers passed through the ethereal form. "R-Ryou." He whispered. The boy just shook his head.

            "No joke… It's me." That same British accent… "Bakura. You never thought a day while you slayed my soul, broke me… and still I've come to give you another chance." The angel whispered to his dark. The ethereal hand lifted and touched the spirit's forehead, and a flash of light sunk into the dark's mind.

            All seemed to vanish before his eyes. "RYOU!" Bakura screamed as the form seemed to fade before him, sucked into the growing darkness. "RYOU!"

            Then… all was darkness.


End file.
